


Chewed Gum

by Writing-The-Impractical-Jokers (writingfanfic)



Category: Impractical Jokers
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:01:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfanfic/pseuds/Writing-The-Impractical-Jokers
Summary: For the prompt: 'would it be totally rad to ask for a lil fic based around Murr coming back home to the reader after a particularly awful challenge & being kinda down but wanting cuddles?'Of course. Poor little baby, although of course it's slightly his fault.





	Chewed Gum

“ _Honey?_ ”

You look up from your desk, and smile, saving the word document you have open as you hear the familiar click of the front door. It’s seven p.m., long day, but average for your boyfriend, and you make your way out onto the landing.

“Hey, James.” You’re still getting used to not calling him ‘Murr’ as you did when you were friends – nothing else has settled in, no ‘Jimmy’ or ‘Jay’, and there’s something about James that sounds sophisticated and formal, and you sort of like that. “You okay, sweetheart?”

He looks up at you and smiles; his eyes are rimmed with dark circles and as he kicks his shoes off, you make your way down the stairs and wrap your arms around him. He almost slumps into your arms, and you kiss his head very softly.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Mostly I just want to bitch about work.” You nod, and he kisses your cheek, his smile jaded and lopsided. “But… baby, if you’re making a coffee, I am not saying no to that coffee.” You smile, and leave him to take off his gloves etc. as you make your way down to your – shared, you suppose, scary thought – kitchen.

Your coffee machine whirrs into life as you select one of the various flavours – is it a mocha? Is it a latte? It’s blue, and you seem to have less of those than the other flavours, so he must like them – and grab an orange juice for yourself.

“ _How was work today?_ ” he calls from the hallway, and you shrug.

“Same as usual. A couple of emails from prospective clients. Nothing concrete. Got an article done though, so that’s going to be edited tomorrow.” You take a sip – you haven’t had a drink in four hours, you think. You’re an idiot. “What happened to you?”

“A really, really shitty punishment.” Murr scrubs his face with his hands. “Well, no. Not yet. But… basically, it’s gonna be me! I’m so fuckin’ surprised.” He sits at the breakfast bar, and you spoon sugar into the coffee before sliding it across to him. “Oh, honey, thank you.”

“Do you, James Stephen Murray,” you begin, and he watches you warily, “want to order something in for tea tonight? Because you do not look in the mood to cook, and funny enough, neither am I.” He grins, and takes your hand, kissing it.

“This is why you’re my girlfriend. Sure thing.” You smile, and as you turn to the drawer in which you keep the – too many – takeaway menus, he puts his head in his hands again. You bite your lip.

“Tell me about today.”

“Oh, we finished filming a challenge – it’s probably gonna go in the episode after this one’s,” he says, absently playing with the tiny decorative snowman Q bought him for Christmas. It’s dressed to look like him – Murr hates it, but you love it, which is why he’s kept it. “Basically… do you  _know_  how many people in Central Park will threaten to punch you if you ask to share their gum?”

“How did you lose that?”

“I didn’t! Well… I technically… didn’t.” He looks a little embarrassed, cheeks flushed a pale pink, and you raise an eyebrow. “…oh, man. It’s my fault. But I still feel pissed off.”

“What did you do?” you ask, a tone of amusement in your voice, and he pouts at you. “Go on, honey.”  _Chinese_. Perfect. You wave the menu at him, and he nods. You can order online! The anti-social dream.

“So… basically, we had to get someone’s gum and chew it. It was… it was so gross.” He grimaced, and you think about kissing him – he must see your frown of distaste, because he shakes his head hurriedly. “I literally… bit a tiny corner of it and spit it out. Don’t worry. It. Was. Gross.”

“How did you lose that against  _Sal_?” you ask in disbelief, and he flushes again.

“I… I sorta bet Sal would never do it.”

 _Ah._ That explains it. Sal would do anything Murr bet he couldn’t, you think, and pat his arm gently. Even if he had to gargle with hand sanitiser afterwards.

“He vomited after, but… he did it! So I took the entire show’s punishment, and now… ugh. I don’t know. I feel like I’ve filmed way too many of these.” He pouts. “If I come home all bald again, will you stay with me?”

You reach over to the paper grocery bag left on the side from before, and solemnly put it over his head – there is a defeated sigh from inside, and as you remove it again, he looks so weary you just can’t bring yourself to even poke fun at him lovingly. You take his hand, walking around the counter, and lead him into the living room.

“Come on. You have a day off tomorrow. Let’s just… make the most of it,” you suggest, and he nods, sitting down on the sofa and pulling you with him. You curl up to him, and he kisses the side of your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You send the order off, and he turns on the TV, before turning to you. “You wanna take the punishment for me?” His eyes are full of laughter, but you hit him in the stomach with a cushion anyway. “Hey! No fair.” He pulls you close again, and as you gently wrap your fingers around a fold of his shirt, he kisses your head. “Fine. But you have to love me no matter what.”

“Of course,” you murmur, and feel him relax again. “Of course.”


End file.
